Bailey Bradford - Southwestern Shifters 06 - Reverence
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“Anyway,” Harley continued, turning to stare at the clock on the far wall. “Every minute with him was hell. I never knew if I was going to be alive the next moment, the next hour, the next day. Who could blame me for hating every single fucking one of you?” Even as he said it, he knew it wasn’t fair, but it was how he felt. Maybe, given some time away from the constant gnawing fear, he’d gain a better perspective. As it was, he barely slept, waiting for a werewolf to sneak in and tear his throat out, something he’d seen happen to other wolves and people and would never, ever forget. “Who can blame me for being scared?”
He hadn’t meant to add that, but it slipped out nonetheless. Harley pressed a hand to his mouth to keep from blabbering anything else he’d rather not share. Ever.
“I suppose pointing out that we—none of the shifters here, in Marcus’ pack—have ever hurt you, wouldn’t help at all?” Nathan snorted. “Yeah, cancel that. I did mention one of the options discussed was death, and even though it wasn’t ever going to happen, I guess it does show our more barbaric side. But Harley…” Nathan touched his hand again, his fingers lingering on Harley’s skin, and Harley didn’t even have the energy to pull away. “We’re people, too. More human than not.”
Harley almost nodded before he caught himself. Nathan’s touch was distracting him, and not in a sexual way. He just hadn’t been comforted in any sense for a long time. It felt kind of good to be touched, if he didn’t think about who or what was doing the touching.
“There’s bad shifters and good shifters,” Nathan continued on, “just like there’s bad people and good people. We just want to live, to love, to enjoy our lives. We can’t do that if we’re hunted down and thrown in labs, cages, cut open and experimented on. And yes, there are shifters who’d kill to protect our secret. Aren’t there plenty of humans who’d do the same, to keep their children, their loved ones safe?”
Harley ground his teeth together to keep from answering, because of course Nathan had a point, the jerk. Harley would have done whatever it took to protect his family, when he’d had one.
“But we’re not animals, Harley.”
“Why do you keep saying my name? I’m the only other person in the room, aren’t I?” Harley groused, daring to glare at Nathan. He couldn’t help but feel as if Nathan was playing some sort of game with him. Trying to suck him in, be all friendly and crap then— something. Something bad.
Nathan glared right back. “I like your name, for one thing, and two, when Marcus was held captive for six months by that sick fucking son of a bitch who kidnapped you, he was never called by his name except by Sean Dobson, who actually tried to help Marcus. He said that was sometimes the only thing that helped him stay sane, hearing his name, and you don’t exactly seem all there.” Nathan tapped his head. “So I’m trying to help you, you grumpy jerk!”
Harley goggled at Nathan then started snickering. He couldn’t help it, Nathan was flushed with anger, he had that whole snapping-eyes thing going on, and the growly tone and frown, and it just struck Harley as hilarious, so maybe he had totally lost his mind. Besides which, he had been a grumpy jerk but he was entitled.
“It’s not funny.” Nathan waved his hand in front of Harley’s face. “Are you okay? Have you, like, snapped or something? You’re freaking me out.”
That set Harley off even more. He was freaking Nathan out? Too funny! What was Nathan afraid Harley was gonna do? Snigger to death?
“What have we done to you?” Nathan muttered, and suddenly Harley wasn’t so amused by anything.
“Just let me go home.” Whether or not he could keep all his marbles in the bowl afterwards was his problem. “I need to go home.” No matter that illogical voice inside him that kept questioning whether he really wanted to leave.
Nathan nodded. “Okay, well, I believe that’s what we said was going to happen. We just wanted your word not to tell anyone about us.”
“You have it,” Harley sniped. “For shit’s sake, who would believe me if I started spouting off about werewolves—”
“Shifters.”
“What the fuck ever.” Like Harley cared what these people wanted to be called. “Just, no one would believe me, okay? And I know what happens to people who go around telling everyone about fictional stuff.”
“You do?” Nathan asked, his attention zeroed in on Harley. “What do you know?”
“What I’ve seen on TV.” Fuck Nathan, he didn’t owe the man any explanations. And sure, okay, maybe Marcus had been held and tortured by the same fuckwad who took Harley, but that didn’t make them buddies. “I watched a lot of TV before.” Harley turned and headed out of the kitchen. “How soon can I leave?”
However soon, unless it involved going back in time several weeks, it wouldn’t be soon enough.
Chapter Two
Three days later, Harley picked up a small blue duffle bag that Nathan had insisted on giving him. He thought there were probably clothes and basic hygiene necessities in there but he didn’t care enough to look. The rooms he’d been living in for weeks suddenly and absurdly seemed less frightening than returning to the apartment he’d been abducted from. What was going on with that? Yes, he’d been kidnapped and…other stuff, but that place was still his home, and now he knew to lock and lock and lock his doors. And windows. Anyway, the psycho who’d taken him was dead, and really, nowhere was safe from these shifters. They could find him, Harley had no doubt. But shouldn’t he rather be away from them than in their midst?
Some kind of psych thing where I’m getting attached to my keepers. Stockholm Syndrome, that’s it.
“Are you sure about this?”
Harley squawked and smacked his head on the door frame as he spun around. He slapped a hand over his racing heart and glared at Nathan. “Jesus Christ, yes I’m sure! Otherwise one of you will kill me just from sneaking up on me like that!”
Nathan really looked like he wanted to laugh, his eyes bright and lips twitching at the edges. Harley put as much irritation into his expression, especially once he felt a fucked-up little twinge of regret at not having Nathan around anymore. What the fuck, Harley? Really? Harley examined the emotion for a second, found he didn’t feel anything for Nathan more than some weird companion-type thing, and he let it go.
“Sorry.” It was almost as if Nathan sensed Harley’s silent murder of their potential friendship. The guy seemed to slump a bit and that bright spark to his eyes vanished. “I am sorry, Harley. We’ve taken care of a few things for you—” Harley opened his mouth to argue but Nathan shook his head. “Never mind. Just… Just go, and be safe, and happy, and if you need anything—”
“I’ll take care of it myself,” Harley finished, not wanting to hear more of Nathan’s toohonest sounding words. Nathan would shatter Harley’s conceptions of shifters and that would be very dangerous for him. “Who is driving me?”
“It was going to be me, but Marcus and I have to meet some friends who are trying to find a couple of missing people.”
Harley wished Nathan wouldn’t share anything like that with him. It just made Nathan that much more human.
“But that’s not your problem, sorry,” Nathan continued. “I didn’t think you’d be comfortable with another one of our kind in the car with you, so we decided you can just take it. We’ll have someone pick it up next weekend.”
Harley wasn’t going to argue even though he didn’t particularly want to take the car. He wanted to go home—didn’t he? He scowled and held out his hand. “Okay, I’ll leave the keys in it if you have a spare.”
Nathan held up two sets. “We do. It’s the little blue truck out front.” He offered one of the key rings to Harley. “Have a safe drive, and if you need anything—”
“Y’all’ve done enough,” Harley spat out, only the anger wasn’t in his words. Instead, he sounded grateful and his damned eyes started burning. His hand shook as he swiped the keys and Harley turned and strode as quickly as he could without actually running for the front door. His heart slam
med so hard against his chest that it hurt, and breathing seemed almost impossible as his lungs cramped with the need for air. Part of him wanted to stop, turn around, and at least ask about the man he’d seen lying in that bed, hooked up to machines and IV’s. What would it hurt to ask now, when he was leaving? But Harley didn’t, couldn’t, because he was afraid of the fact that he even wanted to ask.
What the hell was happening to him? Harley thought Nathan called his name, but the door was right there, the steel cold beneath Harley’s fingertips. He grabbed the knob and twisted, then cool, crisp air stung his skin and bright morning sunlight assaulted his eyes. Harley dived out of the door, not even caring if he shut it or anything. His mind and body were in chaos, panicking at leaving, possibly, though that made no sense at all. He wanted to leave, wanted to never have anything to do with another shifter again! So the panic had to be from something else, though Harley couldn’t fathom what that would be.
The truck was a blurry dark shape in front of him. Harley’s eyes were running—from the sunlight, he was sure. He rubbed at them and almost gouged an eye out with the keys as he stumbled to the driver’s side door. “Fuck it. Fuck everything.” Harley pressed the button on the fob. The door locked popped and he got in the truck, not caring what make or model it was, only feeling a pressing need he didn’t understand.
It had to be the urge to get away. Nothing else made sense. There was no reason for him to feel like he was abandoning the injured stranger, a thought that kept popping up in his head. He certainly couldn’t have felt safe with a pack of shifters around him. Probably he was terrified they’d stop him. Harley jammed the keys in the ignition and started the truck. He didn’t even buckle in before he threw it in gear and floored the gas pedal. Dirt and rocks spewed behind him and the truck fishtailed wildly, making Harley gasp as he worked to keep from ending his escape by introducing the truck to a tree or two.
No one stopped him. Harley didn’t look in the rear-view, even though there was an odd tug in his gut to do so. He wasn’t looking back.
Nathan watched Harley flee with a mix of anger and sadness. He heard Marcus approaching behind him as much as he felt it, and when Marcus hooked an arm around his waist and pulled him back, Nathan went willingly.
“What, exactly, was that?” Marcus asked, his voice deep and rumbly and firing all of Nathan’s sexual pistons despite the scene he’d just witnessed.
“I’m afraid it might have been Harley breaking.” Nathan’s budding arousal fell flat and
he turned in Marcus’ hold. Marcus’ dark eyes always drew Nathan in, and he thought he
could get lost in them, as he’d thought so many times before. He gave himself a mental shake
and concentrated on what he wanted to say instead of his mate’s attributes. “He was panicking, and almost so much that I thought he was going to pass out. The
further away he got, the worse it was. I don’t know why, except maybe he didn’t believe we
would let him go. Maybe he thought we were toying with him.” The very idea of that made
Nathan sick, his stomach going all queasy and nasty in a split second. “I thought, after that
night he finally left his rooms, well, I’d hoped Harley would realise we weren’t going to hurt
him. Maybe seeing Val lying there, looking more dead than alive only scared Harley more.” Marcus growled and put his other arm around Nathan as well, then he began running
his hands over Nathan’s back, soothing him a little with each touch. “We’ve done everything
we could to show him we aren’t like Joshua Dobson. There was nothing else left, short of
mass shifter suicides, and no one is willing to go that far to make Harley feel safer.” Nathan snorted and closed his eyes as he rubbed against Marcus. “No shit. As much as
I like Harley, I’m not willing to off myself or have anyone else do the same. And I don’t think
that would help, anyway.” Nathan opened his eyes and looked at Marcus again. “I think he was fighting with himself, and maybe didn’t—doesn’t—even know it. I think he knows he can trust us, that he is safe here, but some part of him, maybe the human in him, who knows, doesn’t want to believe it. Or is so traumatised by what Joshua Dobson did to him…” There went Nathan’s stomach again, trying to return everything he’d eaten for breakfast. He pressed his open mouth to Marcus’ chest. A swipe of his tongue over the tight T-shirt covering Marcus’ skin, and Nathan’s nausea ebbed. Marcus’ flavour calmed him, his scent
soothed Nathan.
“I almost wish I had Joshua Dobson here to tear apart, slowly,” Marcus growled, his big
body tensing. He’d bulked up again, almost as big as he had been before his own abduction
and torture at Joshua Dobson’s hands. Nathan clung to him and pushed away those
thoughts. Marcus had been nearly dead when Nathan had found him, but he wasn’t now. He
was strong, so strong, and healthy, and the leader of all the North American shifter packs. He
was the Alpha Anax of them, and no one who saw him would ever doubt his power. “I’m afraid Dobson did more to Harley than just hit him,” Nathan whispered. “I
wanted Harley to tell me, but I also didn’t. So maybe I didn’t press enough, and I should
have—”
“Stop.” Marcus tipped Nathan’s chin up. The feel of Marcus’ fingers against his throat,
his jaw, sent sparks of want to Nathan’s dick. “Don’t blame yourself. Harley said what he
wanted to, and pushing him would only have pissed him off. I think he’s a strong little shit,
and he has to deal with what happened in his own way.”
Considering that he and Harley weren’t too much different in height—they were both
on the short side—Nathan considered being miffed over the ‘little shit’ comment but didn’t
see the point. He didn’t want to argue with Marcus. He wanted something else, but they
probably didn’t have time for that.
“We can make time. Gabe and Mika, and their friends, can wait if we’re a few minutes
late.” Marcus slid a hand down to his ass and lifted Nathan to his toes with his strong grip. “I
need you in me.”
Nathan bit his lip as he rubbed against Marcus’ stiff rod. They were meeting Gabe and
Mika and two of their friends who were trying to find a couple of lost shifters in Europe. It
sounded like a mess, and possibly something to be concerned about since it was drawing
their friends in, but right now Nathan needed the release, both physical and mental, Marcus
was offering him. The strong tang of Marcus’ arousal told him Marcus needed it too. “Come here,” Nathan gritted out, taking control of the situation as his cock throbbed
painfully. He grabbed Marcus’ hand and spun out of Marcus’ hold, then with a few steps
had them at a bathroom door. They could have used Harley’s room, but that just seemed
wrong and Nathan didn’t want to think about Harley or the way he’d run, the scent of fear
thick in the air behind him. Nathan needed an escape from that. He opened the bathroom
door and pulled-pushed Marcus inside in front of him. “Get your jeans down past that sexy
ass. This is going to be fast and rough.” He needed his mind to melt, and Marcus would
make that happen and melt right along with him.
Instead of complying, Marcus shut the door and locked it. He leant back and with a
sexy little smirk pulling at his mouth, he brought his hands to his chest and plucked at his
nipples. “How fast, and how rough?”
“Fuck, you’re going to kill me,” Nathan rasped, eyes glued to the way Marcus was
pinching his tits, making the little nubs stand taut. Nathan wouldn’t be surprised if they
poked right through the thin cotton of his shirt. “Marcus—”
pressing so thick and full against the denim Nathan thought he could see the veins on the fat
length. Standing there, teasing Nathan, touching himself—Nathan whimpered and promptly
bit his lip. Marcus’ lips parted as he tracked a hand down to cup his dick. “Ah, honey. Touch
yourself, just for a minute.”
Nathan tossed his thick braid over his shoulder then brought it back to his front. He
gave Marcus his own wicked smile as the man zeroed in on Nathan’s fingers and his long red
hair. “I’ll start here,” Nathan purred, knowing well how much Marcus loved his hair. He
removed the leather thong from the end of his braid and unbound the length, still damp from
his shower earlier.
The scent of their conditioner, a mint and cherry blossom mix, spread quickly in the
small bathroom. Marcus’ eyelids fluttered as he inhaled. He groaned and pinched his nipple,
his back bowing. “God, I can’t tease you anymore.” Marcus shoved away from the door and
whipped his shirt off, exposing his broad golden chest. The white-blond hair on it glistened
under the bathroom light and Nathan quit messing with his hair, choosing instead to touch
Marcus.
“Fuck yes,” Marcus said as he pressed his hand over Nathan’s, not guiding but simply
feeling him.
Nathan went right to the nipple that was the most swollen, the tip dark red and puffy.
He turned his eyes up to Marcus’, saw the excitement there, and pinched the tit hard. “Fuck!” Marcus yelped, but he held Nathan’s hand to his chest and pushed into the
sensation rather than away. “Again!”
Nathan arched a brow and, instead of using his other hand, he struck fast with his teeth,
biting Marcus’ other nipple at the same time he twisted the first. Marcus howled and
clamped a hand to the back of Nathan’s head, holding him in place.